An Unlikely Confidant
by Ev'rdeen
Summary: Rating changed to M for upcoming chapters. Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger strike up an awkward, and secret, friendship after Fred finds Hermione struggling with the break from Harry and Ron in her third year. Starts during PoA and continues through DH. Stand-alone companion piece to my first fanfic, The Journey Back. Mostly canon compliant.
1. 1 - Brand New Secret Best Friends

******Author's Note:** This is meant to be a stand-alone companion piece to my first fanfic, _The Journey Back_. It features a series of one-shots exploring the blooming friendship/awkward flirting between Hermione and Fred that led to the confrontation between George and Hermoine in my original piece. I am attempting to keep the chapters in a cohesive timeline (hopefully no jumping around from year to year) and as close to canon as possible. If you see anything glaringly amiss in that regard, please let me know. I don't have a set update schedule, but I do have several chapters already planned out.

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**Chapter Title:** 1 - Brand New Secret Best Friends

**Characters:** Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger

**Description: **Set during PoA. Fred Weasley stumbles upon a lonely and (temporarily) friendless Hermione Granger contemplating deeper thoughts atop the Astronomy Tower. An awkward friendship is made and Hermione learns how Fred got his scar.

**Word Count:** 4,283

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

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Even from the foot of the Astronomy Tower stairs, the frigid winter wind howled. Black cloak buttoned tight, Fred Weasley spiraled higher, gloved hands clutching a small sack of the latest designs for the Weasley and Weasley whiz-bang fireworks. His twin brother, George, and their best mate, Lee Jordan, were somewhere below on the frozen grounds searching for the best view for the coming display.

Reaching the top of the tower, Fred quietly eased open the door of the Astronomy Tower. Hazel eyes darted around the open platform as heavy white flakes circled his head and stung his face. His gaze landed upon a familiar huddled form and Fred bit back a curse. Of course Hermione bloody Granger would be on the open Astronomy Tower on the coldest day of the year so far, 'studying' non-existent stars in a snowstorm. Turning away in a frustrated huff, Fred muttered to himself about ruined plans and bossy swots. He stomped down the first steps before throwing one last mutinous glare over his shoulder through the crack of the shutting door, heavy put-upon sigh freezing in his throat.

A large hand shot out to stop the door's progress and Fred stared in wide-eyed horror. Cold that had nothing to do with the weather burrowed deep into his gut as he watched Hermione sway far closer to the edge of the Astronomy Tower than anyone had the right to be. Angry, riotous curls tangled about her head in the bitter wind. Even from the door to the platform, he could see her shoulders shaking in sobs the wind greedily consumed.

Too surprised for thought, Fred strode quickly, purposefully, across the platform, slowing hesitantly as he drew closer. He warily eyed her quaking figure as he would a wild animal, reaching for her with timid trepidation.

"Alright there, Granger?" Fred whispered hoarsely, his hand brushing her shoulder.

Her high shriek pierced the air, and she whirled toward him, teetering. Red-rimmed brown eyes widened with fear and horror before Fred clasped her upper arm hard to steady her.

"Fred," she croaked, her voice strained. Fighting to control breaths coming in harsh, shaky pants, Hermione's mittened hands brushed furiously at her tear stained face.

He stared at her.

"I was just…. the view…" she muttered lamely, taking a small, subtle step away from him, a movement that was not lost on Fred.

Casting a quick glance over the edge and back again, Fred scowled incredulously. "I thought you were afraid of heights."

She tried to laugh it off though the efforts that escaped her chapped lips were closer to a mangled sob. "Yes, well, everyone else says they're so bloody great," she gestured airily, her emotions clouded.

Fred's grip on her arm tightened. "With a broom under you, yeah," he said slowly, the scowl deepening over his freckled features. "But I don't think flying is what you had in mind."

Already pink cheeks flushed impossibly darker. Hermione glared at him a moment before yanking her arm away. "And how would you know what I have in mind, Fred?" she said his name bitterly, mockingly. Hermione then took another step away from him, and to his immense relief, further from the edge. "It isn't as though you and I have anything in common, is it? Isn't like we're friends." Her head dropped, brown curls falling forward to hide her expression so he almost missed her whisper, "Isn't as though you would miss me."

Fred blinked hard before studying her a long moment. She wrapped her arms around herself defensively, scowling at the ground as she ground her teeth. Finally, he sighed and shook his head.

"That's not true, Granger," he said softly, his brow creased in thinly masked concern. "I bet you and I have loads in common."

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes.

Fred smirked, "For one, I guarantee you and I both think Ron's a prat."

The tension coiled in his chest since arriving at the top of the tower eased the slightest bit when the corners of her lips twitched in a small smile before falling back into a scowl. Feeling braver, Fred took a step toward her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Come now, Granger. That one deserved a real smile. You can't really be the ice queen they say you are."

As soon as the words left his lips, he groaned and silently cursed himself, closing his eyes with a grimace.

Furious brown eyes widened, flashing with hurt and malice. An ugly sneer marred her face. "I have it on good authority that you were the one to start that rumor, Fred Weasley," she spat, jabbing him in the chest with a sharp finger.

Flinching, Fred rubbed at the site of the painful jab. "Would you believe me if I told you George did it?"

He just had time to register the shine of tears before Hermione turned from him in an angry huff. "Go away, Fred," she said, her voice wavering.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Fred silently berated himself. He sighed. "Look, Granger. Hermione. I'm sorry about that, yeah? But you were always acting like our mum, telling us off for having fun and laughing too loudly in the common room. I just…" he sighed again, and ran a gloved hand through his shaggy, orange hair. "I'm sorry."

Hermione snorted spitefully. "Just another thing wrong with me," she muttered to herself, causing Fred to start in surprise.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Hermione," he said with utter conviction.

Sorrow and shame filled the glassy eyes that flicked briefly toward him before turning resolutely away. Undeterred, Fred reached out a hand, pulling her around into an awkward hug. Small arms wrapping around his hard torso, Hermione buried her face into his chest.

"I mean it," Fred said into her frizzy hair, attempting to smooth it with his gloves. "There is nothing wrong with you, Granger. No matter what me or George or anyone else might have said in a misguided attempt at humor. Or annoyance," he added as an after thought.

She shrugged noncommittally, curling her fists around the folds of his cloak, silent tears bleeding through. They stood quietly for a time, her tears gradually becoming bitter sobs in his arms. Fred stood helpless as Hermione cried out her pain into his clothes. After long minutes, she quieted again, the occasional sniffle the only thing he heard through the snow. Fred squeezed her shoulders.

"Want to go inside and talk a bit?"

She nodded and let him lead her just inside the Astronomy Tower door. Pulling the door shut tight behind them, Fred warded it against the wind before casting a warming charm and plopping down onto the step. Hermione looked down at him stiffly, her embarrassment blooming full force across her cheeks now that she was no longer hidden from view.

Fred smirked at her discomfort and patted the seat next to him. "Why don't you just sit and tell Uncle Freddy what's the matter?"

Hermione stiffened, her face shifting into a mask of annoyance. "You don't need to be condescending, Fred. I didn't ask you to stay."

Before she could move, he grasped her hand and gently but insistently pulled her down on the step. "Just trying to lighten the tension. I'm sorry. I'll be serious."

Hermione scoffed despite shrinking into herself.

"What? I can be serious, you know," he huffed, crossing his arms indignantly, his pointed nose up in the air. He eyed her suspiciously. "That is, if you can deign to talk to me."

Chewing her lip nervously, Hermione studied her fuzzy, red mittens. "Harry and Ron haven't spoken to me in more than a month," she said finally, her head still bowed.

Fred snorted, shaking his head, his posture relaxing into the step beside her. "Thought I'd noticed something was amiss with you three." He slapped his knee is reprimand before leveling her with a sober gaze. He shook an admonishing finger at her. "And I told you Ron was a prat. What've the great gits done now?"

She grimaced, shrinking even more. "It's really more what I've done."

He watched her silently, brows pulled down in cautious curiosity. After a moment, he bumped her shoulder with his encouragingly, smirking when she shot him a brief, timid smile.

Returning her gaze to her mittens, Hermione took several deep, steadying breaths and screwed her eyes shut. "I made Harry turn in the Firebolt he got for Christmas to be checked for curses," she said quickly in one swooshing breath before flinching away from him as she awaited his reaction.

Several moments passed and Fred remained utterly still beside her. She risked a sideways glance at him. Fred, for his part, tried valiantly not to explode at her in confusion and frustration. Finally letting out a hard breath, his chin dropped to his chest and he winced. "Why?" he asked, voice strained.

Hermione wrung her hands, distraught. "There was no note! That broom could have been from anyone, including Sirius Black," the words poured from her mouth in a torrent. "You remember what happened Harry's first game. Quarrel cursed his broom then. What's to prevent an escaped mass murderer with a known grudge against Harry to not attempt the same thing?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Fred groaned. He studied the wall for a long moment, gathering himself before grinding out slowly, "As much as I hate to admit it, having the broom checked was probably the safest thing." He turned in time to see her blink at him in surprise. "But a Firebolt, Granger? Come on," he whined, his face pained. "Do you want Slytherin to win the Cup?"

Hurt hardened into a scowl before Hermione looked back down at her hands. "You sound just like Ron," she mumbled bitingly.

"Hey!" Fred said, affronted. "There is no need for name calling. I agreed your choice was likely for the best."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shrugged, returning to studying her shoes. Her attention snapped back to him a moment later when he snorted.

"How does it feel, Granger?" he asked with a smirk, relaxed back on his elbows, looking at the stone above them.

She scowled, confused. "How does what feel?"

Fred grimaced. "Being an old soul constantly surrounded by immature, childish prats." He waved a hand to indicate himself before turning to her, eyes full of sincerity. "I mean, how's that feel when there's really no one your age to relate?"

She gasped at him, eyes wide before looking away quickly. Teeth worried her lower lip and she wiped angrily at her traitor tears. Fred began to fidget uncomfortably, worried not that he was incorrect in his assessment, but that he's hit too close to home. Just as he was about to speak to try to smooth things over once again, she beat him to it.

"It's lonely," she breathed. Her eyes found him then, shining bright with emotion. "Even when I actually have friends, it's lonely." She shook her head then as if the clear it.

Fred hesitated only a moment before throwing an arm around her shoulders. "You don't need to be lonely, Hermione," he said softly.

She snorted and pulled away. "And why not," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Because you'll be my friend? Because you can relate?"

"Yes."

He rolled his eyes at her skeptical gaze. "Okay, well no, I can't really relate. At least not all the time. But I will be your friend, Granger," he said, his voice earnest.

She stared at him a long moment. "I don't want your pity, Fred," she bit.

"Good thing I wasn't giving it then," he bit back.

"How can we be friends?" she asked angrily, pulling his arm off her shoulders, and gesturing wildly in her agitation. "We've hardly said five whole sentences to one another before today that wasn't some generic greeting. I don't even know a thing about you!"

"Well," he said, slowly, thoughtfully. "You know I'm Fred. That's a might better start than most."

Hermione glared at him incredulously.

He forced a smile at her, wincing slightly.

"Did you know you're one of only three people who seem to be able to tell me and George apart with any amount of accuracy? The other two are Bill and Ginny and they hardly count, being blood relation and all. Hell, Granger," he huffed, running his hand through his hair, "even Lee get's us mixed up more than his fair share and he's our best mate. How do you do it, by the way?" he asked, pinning her with intense, hazel eyes.

"What?" she asked, startled.

Fred smirked at her, rolling his eyes. "How do you tell us apart?" he asked mockingly.

Hermione blinked, taken aback. "Well," she ventured, biting her lip, "you've a different walk than George. He's better posture. Your voice is a bit deeper than his, and you've a scar just there," she concluded pointing to his eyebrow.

Touching the small white scar that cut through his left eyebrow, Fred breathed a laugh, eyeing her appreciatively. "Noticed that, did you?"

For the first time since he met her at the top of the Astronomy Tower, Hermione's lips curled up in a genuine smiled. "There's a story there, I take it?" she asked.

"There is," he nodded, clasping his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees. "Maybe I'll tell it to you sometime." He grinned, watching her out of his peripheral vision.

When she grinned back at him slyly, Fred felt something flutter deep in his belly and he quickly looked away.

"A friend would tell me now," she said, looking at him through her lashes and bumping his shoulder with hers as he'd done before. The contact made him feel inexplicably warm.

Ignoring the feeling, Fred smiled approvingly. "Seems there's hope for you yet, Granger. Alright, you asked for it. Best settle in."

Hermione obligingly pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around and resting her head there as she watched him expectantly.

"Well, you see, Miss. Granger," Fred began, his tone hautey in a way very much like Percy's, "there have been occasions - very rare occasions, mind - but occasions none the less, when dear Georgie-boy and I have not seen entirely eye-to-eye."

Hermione's eyes widened in false innocence. "I can't even imagine," she breathed, playing her part.

"Yes, and why would you?" Fred scoffed, tossing back his hair in a suspiciously practiced move. "Thick as thieves George and I are."

"Well, if that isn't horrifyingly accurate." Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Now, now. No need to be nasty or tarnish our shining reputations. Besides," he said, dropping the pretentious air, "we only nick things of little to no consequence."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, eyeing him suspiciously. "Like that map you gave Harry?"

Stiffening, Fred cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Haven't the foggiest what you mean, Hermione-dearest. Besides," he said, he voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, "brand new secret best friends don't judge other brand new secret best friends."

Hermione rolled her eyes, letting her gaze fall to her lap. "Secret. Right."

Frowning, Fred bumped her shoulder again with his, a move that seemed able to pull a smile from her, not matter how small. "Only secret for the moment, Granger. Would you want me to go yell our new status off the Astronomy Tower? Bloke's likely to slip and fall over the edge in this weather."

Hermione went ridged beside him, her chin dropping to her chest so her hair hid her expression.

Leaning in until his face was near her ear, Fred whispered, "You'd rescue me, though, wouldn't you, Granger?" His hand came up then, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Because friends rescue friends, secret or no."

Flushing hotly, Hermione nodded as if to herself, swiping at a stray tear. She looked up at him then, their faces so close her pert nose brushed his longer one. She pulled back slightly, blushing brighter, blinking hard as her gaze fell briefly to his mouth before returning to his intense hazel eyes. "Friends?" she asked wetly. "They rescue each other from anything?"

Fred nodded slowly, his eyes boring into hers.

Hermione blinked, her gaze dropping to the side in embarrassment. "Even from themselves?" she whispered, grimacing.

The hand on her back came up around her shoulders, pulling her into hollow at the juncture of his neck. Fred felt her nose brush his collarbone.

"Especially from themselves," he rumbled into her hair.

That sat like that in silence for long moments before Fred spoke.

"He threw a book at me."

Pulling back from him, Hermione stared at him as if he'd gone barmy. "Excuse me?"

Laughing quietly, Fred rubbed at the small, white, nearly invisible scar running through his left eyebrow. "George. He threw a book at me. That's how I got the scar. We were seven."

Small, tentative fingers reached out and brushed at the thin white line gently. Hermione blinked at him, startled, her cheeks flushing noticeably pink even in the dimming light of the stairwell. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Why?"

Fred snorted, ruffling her hair affectionately in a manner he used with Ginny. "You know, I don't even remember. Bill was watching all of us while mum took Ginny to the healer for something or other. I likely said or did something to upset him, probably several somethings in rapid succession, and he picked up dad's book on muggle automobiles. The corner caught me. Bled worse than a stuck hippogriff. Georgie cried harder than I did once he realized I was hurt. Glued himself to me the rest of the day." Fred's eyes were glazed as he stared off into the distance, small smile on his lips. He shook his bright, messy head before grinning at her. "We never much fought after that."

"Never?" she said incredulously, skepticism lining her every feature.

Fred shrugged. "Well, we've had disagreements, yeah. Hell, we've even thrown a few punches, but that's just brotherly love stuff."

Reeling back, she eyed him horrified. "Punching doesn't count as fighting?"

"It isn't as though they're malicious, most of the time," he said the last under his breath. "Just a tool to prove a point. Think of them more like punctuation." Fred punched her shoulder softly with his fist by way of demonstration.

Shaking her head in barely concealed disgust, Hermione scoffed. "Boys are barbaric," she muttered.

He smirked, waggling his orange eyebrows at her leeringly. "Better get used to it brand new secret best friend!" Fred punched her lightly again, laughing as he jumping up and away when she swatted at him.

Face still split in a grin, he held his hands up to her placatingly. "Alright, alright," he said soothingly before gingerly lowering himself down next to her once more. "So who are we telling about our brand new secret best friend status then, Granger? Harry, Ron, George, and Lee? All of Gryffindor Common Room? Maybe jump up on the table at dinner in the Great Hall?"

Hermione stiffened, shaking her head emphatically. "No one."

Surprise and hurt warred across his face. Fred sat up and back, his posture becoming much more formal as he frowned.

"You ashamed of me, Granger?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning her for a silent confession.

Her face showed nothing but shock. "No!" she cried so emphatically, Fred felt himself relax. She reached for him, grasping his hands in an attempt to placate him. "I could never be ashamed of you Fred," she said sincerely.

Fred watched her fingers wrapped around his a long moment before a wicked smile crept across his face. "Never, you say?"

Tensing once again, Hermione eyed him warily. "Fred?" she question, dragging out his name in her confused concern.

Smiling at her in what didn't even come close to a reassuring way, he bumped her shoulder with his. His smile dimmed. "What if I promised to only tell George?" he asked.

Her face blazed a vicious red. She released his hands only to drag her mittens through her already crazed hair. Knees bouncing in agitation, Hermione whimpered.

Startled realization dawned on his face. "You're embarrassed." It wasn't a question.

Her head snapped up, wide brown eyes locking on hazel. "Not of you," she defended.

Fred snorted, ignoring her startled squeak when he pulled her into a hug. "No," he agreed. "Not of me."

When it came, her pleading voice was muffled in the folds of his cloak. "No George?"

Wincing hard, Fred sighed. He ran his free hand across his forehead before nodding slowly. "No George," he agreed apprehensively. Gripping her shoulders suddenly, he pushed her back so he could scrutinize her face. "But in exchange, you have to swear on, on," he dropped her gaze to glance around frantically for inspiration. Suddenly, grinning triumphantly, his eyes snapped back onto her expectant, frightened face. "You have to swear on Harry bloody Potter. If you ever feel like, like you need rescued." He nodded at her to be sure she caught his meaning. "If you need rescued, you have to swear you'll come talk to me. No matter what I'm doing or who I'm with."

The corners of her lips twitching, Hermione peeked up at him through her lashes. "No matter what?" she asked, her voice a mask of innocence.

Nodding decisively, Fred muttered his assent.

"No matter who?"

Again he nodded.

Hermione pursed her lips. "But what if you're in detention with Professor Snape?"

Snorting in derision, he nodded once more. "Absolutely if I'm with Snape. Any distraction you can think of will do."

She nodded thoughtfully. Fred smirked to himself imagining the likely future prefect causing Professor Snape any sort of distraction. Suddenly, Fred felt his stomach erupt in flutters when she turned wide shining eyes on him. "What," she asked, her voice an embarrassed whisper. "What if you're _engaged_," she winced as if the thought caused her distress.

He scowled at her in confusion. "Engaged?"

Hermione nodded, her expression clouded. "Yes. With some, some girl?"

Fred nearly gagged, yanking his hands back as if she'd burned him. He stared at her in quiet horror before his face pinched with suspicion. He leaned in, eyeing her intently. "Do you mean shagging?"

Her features gave way to shock as she blanched, her eyes widened comically, and her mouth dropped open. Hermione slapped his arm in indignation. "Fred Weasley! I most certainly did not mean," she glanced around her as if searching for an unexpected audience. "Shagging," she whispered, her eyes studiously avoiding his as her cheeks blazed redder than his hair.

Fred laughed then, great loud guffaws with tears streaming down his cheeks. He reeled back, long arms gripping his sides. Her back ramrod straight, Hermione sat there, arms crossed, scowling at him, valiantly smothering any twitch of a smirk that appeared on her lips.

"Honestly," she chastised him, rolling her eyes as his laughter finally subsided.

Brushing away his tears and sighing after a few last chuckles, Fred finally risked a glance at her pursed face. He cleared his throat, voice taking on a serious tone even as his eyes swam with mirth. "Well," he began slowly, swallowing a giggle. "If I do ever find myself _engaged_, as you so eloquently put it, Granger, then I think I'm going to have to request you find George."

A snort of laughter escaped him when she swatted his arm.

Clearing his throat noisily, he fought his smirk. "No, I really am going to have to insist. Just speak to him as if he's me. He'll play along, guaranteed."

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes. "You two really are quite horrid."

"Oh, do go on, Granger," Fred coaxed, batting his lashes at her. She groaned again, hiding her face in her hands. Chuckling, Fred stood, turning back to offer her a hand up.

"Speaking of my devilishly good looking, identical twin brother, he and Lee are probably wondering if Filch's caught me yet."

Hermione eyed him sharply. "Filch?" she asked shrilly. "Why would Filch be looking for you?"

Reaching a hand for the Astronomy Tower door, Fred grinned around the long finger he pressed to his lips, shushing her. He winked once at her before pushing the door open to the swirling winds.

Hunching her shoulders against the cold, Hermione turned to head down the tower steps. She paused when he called out to her. "No matter what, Granger." And the door clicked shut.

* * *

Hermione has just reached the bottom of the Astronomy Tower steps, her head bent in silent contemplation when her name echoed off the gray stone walls.

"Granger!" George called, running up to her with a slightly apprehensive looking Lee right behind him. "Where you just up the Astronomy Tower?" he asked earnestly, gripping her shoulders as if she might duck away.

Paling momentarily at being caught, Hermione's brain spit out the only answer it could fathom. "Yes."

George made an admirable attempt to hid his grimace. "Didn't see Fred up there by chance, did you?"

Hermione blinked at him a moment. "We, uh, we just passed. On the stairs," she added dumbly, dropping her eyes as her cheeks flamed.

Both George and Lee seemed to sag in relief. "Brilliant," George breathed, releasing her shoulders and turning toward the tower stairs. "Well, see you Granger," he tossed over his shoulder, Lee sending her a cocky wave as both boys raced up the spiraling stairs.

Squeezing her eyes tight in silent beratement, Hermione groaned. She really needed to work on thinking up excuses quickly. Letting out a deep sigh, she shook her curly head before continuing her trek back to Gryffindor Common Room.


	2. 2 - You're Only Young Once

**Chapter Title:** 2 - You're Only Young Once

**Characters:** Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger, Viktor Krum

**Description: **Set during GoF. Hermione Granger fumes in the entrance hall after a row with her best friend, Ron. Fred Weasley stumbles upon her, frustrated with his own problems. Hermione learns a secret about the twins and Fred convinces Hermione to be brave.

**Word Count:** 2,490

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

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Sounds of music, shouting, and laughter filtered out of the large, open oak doors of the Great Hall. The Yule Ball was still in full swing, much to the disgust of Hermione Granger. Ronald Weasley, as if he had all the right in the world, had just accused her (_her!_) of abandoning him and Harry for the Bulgarian Quidditch star, just because she'd agreed to be Krum's date. As if Ron had any claim to her at all just because they were friends, just because he'd asked her at the last minute, as a bloody last resort, to be his _own_ date to the ball. No. Hermione knew, with her typically bushy brown hair, slight figure, and studious nature, she wasn't usually the prettiest girl in the room, knew she didn't really hold a candle to girls like Lavender or Parvati or even Ginny, but she was most certainly not going to be anyone's last resort, especially not Ronald _bloody_ Weasley. She might not be stunningly beautiful, or generally care _that_ much about her looks, but she certainly had a healthy dose of self-respect.

Grinding her teeth, Hermione sat heavily upon the Grand Staircase. She dropped her perfectly coiffed head into her hands, wavering between crying in hurt and frustration, and seething in self-righteous fury at the ginger-haired menace. She had just finished another bout of crying, and was angrily swiping at her traitorous tears, while mentally categorizing the most humiliating hexes she knew versus how much trouble she might get in for inflicting them upon another student, when the sound of a throat clearing caused her head to snap up in alarm.

Standing several steps below her, looking purposefully disheveled with his hands shoved deep into pockets, tie unknotted, and shirt untucked, was Fred Weasley, older brother to Undesirable Number One, and her secret confidant. Hermione's red-rimmed brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Fred!" she said forcibly cheerful, plastering on an obviously fake smile. She glanced around a moment, her smile drooping. "Where's Angelina?"

Fred snorted, rolling his eyes. "Off snogging George behind some tapestry, I suspect," he said, climbing the last few stairs that separated them and plopping down beside her. He tossed his head, effectively removing a lock of orange hair from in front of his hazel eyes, before leveling those same eyes on her expectantly.

Hermione stared back at him, confusion written plainly on her face. "But I thought she was your date?" she asked slowly, uncertainly, worried how she'd managed to mess that up.

Fred snorted again, his gaze dropping to his clasped hands resting between his knees. "She is. Well, I mean, I asked her," he confirmed with a nod of his head. He looked back to her, his expression guarded. "But George and me, we switched."

Hermione blinked hard, her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Why would you do that?"

"Now, now, Granger. What's with the judgy tone?" Fred rubbed awkwardly at the red flush on the back of his neck. Dropping his hand, he sighed. "Well, as it so happens, George was a might bit upset about me asking Angelina to the ball. Turns out he fancies her, too."

Hermione looked at him appalled. "So you're _sharing_ her? Does she know?"

Fred laughed humorlessly. "I think she suspects," he muttered. Catching Hermione's furious glare, he held up his hands placatingly. "Easy there, Granger. And we're not sharing. Not the way you're imagining at any rate," he mumbled the last.

Her eyes narrowed threateningly, her hand inching toward her wand.

Fred bristled, sneering at her. "What sort of depraved git do you take me for? It isn't like I bloody well _engaged_ her and then passed her on over. I escorted her, we danced a few times, then George and I switched. Honest. It was as innocent as that."

Anger abating, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. Critical brown eyes scanned his face for any sign of duplicity and, finding none, softened. "So it isn't just some prank."

It wasn't a question but Fred shook his head anyway, a frown deepening across his freckled face.

Unaccustomed to seeing Fred in such a state, she took a moment to study him. He sat stiffly next to her, elbows on his bouncing knees, jaw set in a tense line. Hermione hesitated only a moment before leaning over and bumped shoulders with him. Warmth bloomed in her chest when a small, reluctant smile crept on his face at the contact. An answering smile graced her painted lips before falling into a concerned scowl. "I still don't understand why."

Frown returning, Fred scrubbed his face with his hands. A frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. "No, you wouldn't, would you?" he muttered.

Indignation chased the flash of hurt across her face. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked in a huff, crossing her arms and leaning away from him as if he might bite.

Fred snorted, rolling his eyes. "It means I didn't like Ange near enough to cause a problem with George. She wasn't worth it for me."

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh_. Besides, I'm fairly certain Ange thought I was George when she said yes." A genuine smirk played at his lips then and he shot her an amused sideways glance. "Can you believe that, Granger? Someone mixing up me and George?"

"Can't fathom the possibility," she said, lips quirked in a suppressed grin.

"Right?! It's not as if we're _completely_ identical. I mean, obviously, my favorite color is green while Georgie-boy prefers blue." Fred sighed heavily, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I could have sworn everyone knew that," he muttered.

Eyes dancing, Hermione bit her lip to smother a giggle. "Really, Fred? Green? How very Slytherin of you."

Fred blinked at her, stunned, before breaking into a devious grin. "Oh no. You get that blasphemy right out of your head, Granger. I do not like Slytherin green." He shuddered to prove his point.

"You said green," she sniffed haughtily, tossing her lightly freckled nose in the air. "I only made the logical conclusion."

Fred smirked. "Logical? Hardly. How can a fine, upstanding Gryffindor such as myself enjoy Slytherin green? Too reptilian. Do you even use that brain of yours, Granger?" He smiled warmly at her then to soften the sting before throwing his hand out in a wide arch in front of them as if to paint a scene.

"Imagine, if you will, the snows have finally melted. New spring grass, wet with freshly fallen rain, dance in a gentle breeze. The sun is finally warm enough to fight off the winter chill that still clings to the shadows." Fred shook his head at her as if disappointed. "How's that for Slytherin," he mumbled to himself.

Hermione blinked away her surprise, a smile slowly bloomed across her face. "That's quite poetic, Fred. And here I was convinced your favorite color would be something like magenta."

"Magenta?" he asked skeptically.

Hermione tossed her head, feigning disdain at his ignorance. "Of course, magenta. It would clash riotously with your hair," at this she reached out with a grin and ruffled his long locks. "Thus making it bold, loud, and utterly obnoxious. Quite similar to a Weasley twin," she said eyeing him playfully.

He chuckled lightly, running a large hand through his hair. "Now there's an idea, Granger," he murmured.

Smiling to herself, Hermione bit her lip and contemplated him earnestly. Fred stared down the steps toward the front doors, his gaze flickering from painting to painting but never really seeing. She could tell he was deep in thought, his slightly pursed lips and squinting eyes signs she was slowly beginning to pick up on as their friendship grew. Hermione felt delightfully warm from their playful banter, similar to how she felt walking into the Great Hall at the start of the evening on Viktor Krum's arm, but without the nearly overpowering nerves that had plagued her most of the day. Her earlier disappointment and fury at the youngest male Weasley was temporarily forgotten.

The comfortable silence between the two companions lasted for long moments before Fred's face grew sad.

"Is that how you see us, Granger?"

Hermione had drifted off in her own thoughts and was slightly startled to hear his voice. She turned to contemplate him, confused.

Scratching at the back of his neck in a sure sign of discomfort, Fred fidgeted next to her. "George and me? Is that how you see us? Loud and utterly obnoxious?"

She blinked in surprise. "No. Not at all, Fred," she said earnestly. She placed a delicate hand on his forearm and watched as the tips of Fred's ears turned pink. Hermione blushed at his curious reaction before continuing.

"I do think that's how you want people to see you. Not your friends, mind." She smiled shyly at him. "But others."

Fred grinned roguishly then and winked at her, chuckling when she felt her cheeks turn hot once more. "Brand new secret best friends, you mean?"

She rolled her eyes in an attempt to hide her discomfort. "Those, too," she agreed. Anxious, Hermione pulled her hand back from his arm, resting it in her lap. Her gaze dropped to her twined fingers, barely noticing the small frown that played across Fred's face.

"You and George, you put on a front for the world, Fred." Hermione could feel him watching her intently as she continued to speak.

"Thick as thieves, remember?" Her eyes locked on his a moment before dropping. "Always laughing, always outgoing, always causing mischief. No room for sorrow or embarrassment or fear," she said, her voice longing. "Not everyone is willing to dig deeper than the facade. Not everyone is brave enough."

Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye as his face turned as red as his hair. Fred dragged a hand through his hair, huffing a sigh. He winced. Then, slowly, he leaned over and bumped his shoulder to her bare one. She smiled secretly to herself, a gentle flutter beginning to tickle in her stomach.

Then Fred spoke.

"What are you doing out here, Hermione? Don't you have some hot Bulgarian superstar waiting to sweep you off your feet?"

Hermione groaned, her face growing hard. The happy flutter turned to gravel in her gut as forgotten anger swarmed her chest and unshed tears filled her eyes. Her hands clenched into fists and she shot a pointed look at Fred.

"I'm here," she ground out through gritted teeth, "because your great git of a brother couldn't find himself a date and felt it best to ruin everyone else's good time."

She sighed heavily, deflating as the anger left her in a whoosh of breath. Turning to him suddenly, she anxiously grasped his calloused hands in her smaller ones. "You don't think I'm 'consorting with the enemy' by going with Viktor, do you, Fred?" she nearly whined in her worry.

His eyes widened comically in surprise before barking a laugh. "Is that what he said? 'Consorting with the enemy?' What does he think you're doing?"

Hermione scowled, the gravel feeling growing heavier. "Giving away secret strategies to help Viktor win the Tournament. As if I've not spent every spare minute trying Harry," she spat bitterly.

The swirling emotions clutching at insides quieted when Fred pulled her into a sideways hug and smiled warmly down at her. "Kinda hard to reveal secret strategies with the language barrier and all, innit?" He paused a beat, grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "And all the snogging, of course."

Hermione blanched before her face erupted with heat. Fred laughed heartily, hugging his stomach and leaning away as she swatted at him.

"It isn't like that, Fred Weasley," she insisted, hiding her face in her hands.

Laughing once more, he pushed her shoulder. "Why the bloody hell not, Granger? He's a strapping young lad, and famous to boot. And you. Well," he eyed her appreciatively. "You look quite stunning," he said, his voice reverent. Fred coughed then, his cheeks flushed, and cleared his throat. "And you're only young once, Granger," he said much more gruffly.

A painful stab of humiliation sliced through her. How was it he could make fun of her now of all times?

"Fred," she admonished, glaring. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, turning away from him on the narrow step.

"I mean it, Hermione," he said slowly, sincerely. Strong fingers gripped her elbow, turning her back to face his earnest face. "You look quite fetching this evening. Just about every bird in that hall was seething with jealousy. Quite amusing actually." He smirked then though his hazel eyes remained cautious.

Hermione squirmed. She stood abruptly, brushing the wrinkles out of her dress and studiously avoiding his gaze. "Viktor is probably looking for me," she said, wincing at how tight her voice sounded even to her own ears.

"Right," he said, moving slowly to stand next to her. A hand reached up to brush her shoulder before dropping back down.

"Good night, Fred," she said, her words clipped, still refusing to turn and look at him properly. Grasping her skirt to avoid tripping, Hermione didn't wait for his reply before speeding off down the stairs.

"I meant it, Hermione." His voice rang down the stairs and she stopped, squeezing her eyes shut at the confusing emotions. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermione slowly turned, her eyes immediately finding his.

Fred's smile was sad. "Krum's a lucky bloke," he said softly, holding her gaze. "Ignore anything my brother tells you. You and I both know he's a prat. And don't forget," he added with a wink, "You're only young once, Granger."

Hermione watched as he turned and slowly made his way up the stairs and out of sight. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, feet frozen to the step, eyes locked where she last saw him, before she registered another presence behind her.

"Hermy-own-ninny?" a deep, thickly accented voice asked. Warm, gentle pressure encased her elbow. "You come back to ball now, dah?"

She turned, drinking in dark, questioning eyes beneath a scowling brow. Hermione smiled, gentle warmth growing in her chest when Viktor returned it. Surprising them both, Hermione leaned forward, wrapped her arms around his thick neck, and brushed her full lips against his thin ones. Viktor hesitated only a moment before she felt strong arms pressing her to his wide chest as he returned her kiss with enthusiasm.

Hermione pulled away, breathless, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. Viktor's hands gripped her waist, his eyes swimming with intense emotion.

"Dance with me, Viktor?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Ever the silent type, Viktor only nodded as he released her waist to grasp her hand instead. A nervous laugh bubbled out of her chest when his fingers threaded through hers and he led her down the remaining stairs, across the hall, and back through the doors to the dance.


	3. 3 - Hate Mail

**Chapter Title:** 3 - Hate Mail

**Characters:** Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger

**Description: **Set during GoF. Fred Weasley waits up late for Hermione Granger to come back to the common room.

**Word Count:** 1,886

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

The low-burning fire in the nearly abandoned Gryffindor common room sputtered before igniting and quickly consuming the small paper bird. Fred Weasley scowled into the fire, his broad form sprawled inelegantly across the worn, red sofa as his right foot bouncing in agitation. Hardly noticing the brief flare of light, he lazily flicked his wand yet again, sending another conjured paper bird to it's fiery death.

Where could she be? Curfew had been hours ago; the common room nearly emptied not long after. George, Fred's identical twin brother, and Lee, their best mate, had finally called it a night nearly twenty minutes prior, no longer willing to subject themselves to Fred's inexplicably foul mood nor his steadfast refusal to explain what or who it was they were waiting up to see.

In truth, Fred was waiting up for Hermione Granger, his little brother's best mate and his secret confidant - something she was adamant he not tell George. After finding her the year before, lonely and lost, atop the Astronomy Tower, Fred and Hermione had stuck up an unusual friendship. After tearfully confessing herself humiliated at the state he'd found her, Hermione had made Fred swear he wouldn't tell anyone, especially George, about their friendship for fear they'd be forced to admit how it all came about. So now, whenever they were surrounded by their friends and classmates, they acted as mere acquaintances with barely a wave or nod of acknowledgement in the halls. But when they were alone, which was only on occasion, they often pestered one another light-heartedly, bickering playfully and buoying one anothers spirits. Fred had never really confronted Hermione about what happened the night he stumbled upon her standing at the open edge of the tallest tower, but he'd taken it to heart to ensure she never felt that helpless again.

It was this reason he found himself awake and impatiently waiting at one in the bloody morning on a Tuesday no less. That morning, he - along with nearly all the rest of the school - had read the Rita Skeeter article in the_ Daily Prophet_ accusing Hermione of stringing along not only Quidditch wonder seeker, Viktor Krum, but the Chosen One himself, Harry Potter. Not long after, Hermione had all but disappeared. The not-so-secret whispers about his favorite fourth year had been rampant, varied, and egregious. Fred had over heard Harry at lunch telling his little sister, Ginny, that Hermione had been sent a curse at breakfast via owl post because of the article, and had spent her morning in the hospital wing. Now, Fred sat up waiting, having just missed her at dinner and needing to confirm for himself that she was indeed alright. Except, the longer he waited, the worse his agitation grew.

Fred was beyond exhausted. He and George has spent the last several nights up far later than was prudent planning and plotting new ways to raise money for their joke shop since that dodgy prat, Ludo Bagman, had cheated them out of their winnings from the Quidditch World Cup. The distinct lack of startup capital, something he and George desperately needed, was, for the first time ever, causing Fred to doubt the likelihood of achieving the only real goal he and George had ever had. With nothing for company but his thoughts, Fred's anger at the situation simmered and flared in his chest only to then meld violently with the cold cramp of worry he felt deep in his stomach for Hermione. He had just decided to go out looking for her when the sound of the portrait hole opening drew his attention.

Peeking up over the back of the sofa, Fred saw nothing as the portrait door seemed to close by itself. Then suddenly, as if conjured out of thin air, Hermione appeared, her normally bushy hair ruffled and tangled in an angry mane around her delicately scowling face. Fred's eyebrows raised in contemplation at her use of Potter's not-quite-secret Invisibility Cloak. He wasn't aware Harry was willing to loan the cloak out to others. Possibilities, targets, and hastily laid plans raced through Fred's conniving mind. Perhaps Harry could be sweet talked into letting him and George use it for some prank or another.

Agitated growling brought his thoughts back to the present. Hermione was awkwardly shoving the translucent material into her bag, her scowl growing as she prattled on to herself in annoyance. He studied her appraisingly, noting no obvious signed of injury, and felt the squirming knot of turmoil from moments before easing.

Smirking for the first time hours, Fred eyed her steadily from his semi-hidden spot on the sofa. "You know," he stated loudly, grinning all the wider when she shrieked and whirled toward him. "When I told you 'you're only young once,' I didn't mean for you to have at Krum Cake _and_ the Boy Wonder."

Hermione stared at him with wide eyed trepidation, panting and pressing a hand to her chest. Then she sagged. Hanging her head and groaning, she shuffling forward. "Not you, too, Fred."

Cocking an orange eyebrow, he pushed himself upright on the sofa, allowing her to slump in the vacated seat. An evil grin spread across his freckled face. He grasped her arm, shaking her lightly.

"So who's the better kisser?" he gushed girlishly, pulling his long legs into his chest and eyeing her exaggeratedly. "My money's on Cookie Krum, seeing how he likely to have the most experience, being older and all." Fred pursed his lips and sighed. "But then I guess you never do know with those strong, silent types."

Pulling her face out of her hands, Hermione branded him a long-suffering glare. "I have not been, nor will I ever be, in a _romantic_ relationship with Harry," she groused. "Honestly, Fred! It would be like you snogging Ginny."

Fred blanched and gagged, leaning away from her is if she were contagious. Mouth set in revulsion, he eyed her scathingly. "That was uncalled for, Granger."

She snorted. "Going to send me hate mail, too, then, Weasley?" she sneered and waved her bandaged hands at him.

All humor drained from him in an instant. The buried embers of his earlier anger blazed suddenly with renewed vigor. Unfolding himself from the couch, he took one bandaged hand gently between his own, the hard scowl on his face belying the tenderness of his actions. "Heard Harry mention this earlier. Undiluted bubotube pus?"

Hermione nodded, worrying at her full, soft, pink lip. Fred watched her mouth intently a moment before blinking and dropping his gaze when he noticed the soft flush that dusted her cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"Nasty stuff. George spilt it on his arm once when we were experimenting in Potions."

Gently extracting her bandaged hand from his, Hermione dropped it to her lap, wincing slightly. "Yes, well, apparently, I'm just a slag who isn't good enough to inhabit the wizarding world, let alone be involved with Viktor or Harry." Her head was down, her expression bitter. The anger in Fred's chest seared even as invisible bands constricted.

"Hey," he said, reaching out and clucking her under the chin. "You don't actually believe that bollocks, do you?"

Hermione's eyes widened indignantly. "Of course not!" she screeched.

Fred frowned at her, unconvinced. "Then why've you been hiding all day?" he accused.

Surprise flitted across her face before she quickly schooled her features. "I've not been hiding," she defended without conviction.

"Then where've you been all bloody night?" he griped, rolling his eyes. "Curfew was hours ago." A thought struck him then and Fred suddenly straightened. He turned to her stiffly, sharp hazel eyes narrowed, and scrutinized her avidly.

"You haven't been with Krum all this time, have you?" The accusation sounded harsh even to his own ears and Fred cringed.

Her face pinched, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "You sound just like Ron," she admonished. "As if it were any of your business, _Fred Weasley_ - "

"Gideon," Fred blurted, cutting off her rant.

She was silent for several long seconds. "What?"

"Gideon. My middle name is Gideon."

Hermione blinked at him in confusion before narrowing her eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

A large hand massaged across his forehead. Fred huffed a humorless laugh. "Well, seeing how I'm being an enormous prat, I thought you might like to curse my name properly."

"You _want_ me to curse you?" she asked slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

Fred really did laugh this time. "Not particularly. I'd much rather you forgave me and let me off without so much as a warning," he confessed, smirking. He gaze grew sincere. "But after what's happened to you today and what I just said, seems you've earned the right."

Her jaw worked soundlessly for a moment before she sighed. Hermione dropped her chin to her chest and shook her head in exasperation. Fred was relieved to see the corners of her lips curled up in a bemused smile.

"I don't want to curse you, Fred," she said finally, her voice betraying her fatigue.

Running hand through his shaggy hair, Fred grimaced. "Sorry I was a prat, Granger." He snorted, shaking his head at himself. "Bloody hell, woman. The whole reason I stayed up late was to make sure you were okay."

His stomach rolled in a decidedly pleasant way when her cheeks lit up as red as his hair.

"You didn't have to do that, Fred," she whispered, picking awkwardly at her bandaged fingers.

Fred flushed then, too. "Yeah, well - "

"But I'm glad you did," she cut in; her rich, chocolate eyes pinned his intently.

Warm tendrils of satisfaction curled invitingly through his chest. Fred found himself unwittingly preening under her praise before silently berating himself. He cleared his throat gruffly.

"Any time, Granger."

A wide smile lit her face and Fred was struck with just how pretty she looked. He blinked in surprise.

Hermione stood then, stretching her arms up over her head and yawning.

"So, Gideon?" she asked, eyeing him speculatively.

Stretching and twisting to relieve the ache that had settled in his back from the long wait, Fred snorted in amusement. "Yup, and George's is Fabian. Named after mum's twin brothers."

"Right," she murmured, bending to pick up her bag. Hermione stepped forward and hugged him then. He stiffened slightly in her arms before relaxing into her embrace, his long arms wrapping securely around her waist. Fred gasped when he felt her lips brush upon his cheek. Dropping her arms, she pulled back to consider him sternly.

"You know I'll be owling your mum for confirmation before using either of those names?" she asked, shaking a disapproving finger at him.

Fred smiled softly before reaching out and brushing a finger across her cheek. "Night, Granger," he said, nodding.

"Goodnight, Fred," she whispered. Fred watched as she turned and slowly ascended the stairs to the girls dormitory. He rasped a tired hand over the meager stubble of his chin before shaking himself out of his stupor. Casting one last glance toward the girl's staircase, Fred touched his cheek where she'd kissed him and frowned. It shouldn't mean anything, he told himself. It didn't mean anything. Reassured, Fred trudged up his own set of stairs and off to bed.


	4. 4 - Annoying Swot

**Author's Note: Sorry about the extra update. Found a glaring error that was driving me nuts.**

* * *

**Chapter Title: **4 - Annoying Swot

**Characters:** Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Sirius Black

**Description: **Set during OotP. George Weasley confronts Fred about his relationship with Hermione. Fred, frustrated he has to continue to hide things from George, gets into an argument with Hermione. Sirius weights in.

**Word Count:** 3,503

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Christmas breakfast at 12 Grimmauld Place had been strained. Mrs. Weasley had tried, without much success, to hold back tears since her estranged son, Percy, had felt it necessary to return his Christmas sweater unopened. The other attending children, including the twins, Fred and George, Ron, Ginny, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger, had finished quickly and in relative silence before each darting off to various locations throughout the obnoxiously decorated estate.

And that is why Fred found Hermione holed up in the front sitting room, slouched down on the wide, black sofa in an attempt to avoid detection, one of the several books she'd received for Christmas open on her lap. He smirked, plopping down heavily next to her.

"You're getting better at these, you know," he declared shaking the spring green mass of knitted yarn Hermione had given him as a Christmas present. "I mean, you're no Molly Weasley, but this is an almost passable nappy."

Chocolate brown eyes narrowed in annoyance and her lips pursed. Hermione didn't even lift her gaze from where it was focused on the words in front of her to swat him on the arm. "Git."

Just then George used his long legs to step over the back of the couch to sit at her other side. "Hey, thanks for the nappy, Granger," he said with a wink.

Hermione groaned, rolled her eyes, and, slouching down even deeper, lifted her book to block out both twins.

Grin plastered to his lips but no further, George's eyes snapped up and held Fred's in challenge. "Funny thing, though, Granger, but how did you know mine and Freddie's favorite colors?"

Fred's stomach clenched, though he held his own grin firmly in place. He'd known George had been growing more suspicious of his occasional unexplained absences and the not-so-occasional brush offs about what exactly it was Fred seemed to be glancing around distractedly to find. The last several weeks, his questions had gotten more and more pointed until, in a very rare spat between the brothers, George had declared he was going to make Fred regret hiding something from him. That has been eleven days ago and Fred had hoped without any real optimism that George would drop it. But here was George, telling him subtly and silently, yet in no uncertain terms, that his current line of questioning was merely a means to confirm what he already suspected.

Hermione's cheeks flamed. "Lucky guess," she mumbled, shifting uncomfortably between the red-headed twins. George's grin grew and he subtly pressed the line of his arm against hers in what Fred knew was a blatant attempt to fluster the poor girl.

Hoping to wrestle control of the conversation from George, Fred pretended to play along, throwing a protective arm around Hermione's narrow shoulders in a way he knew his twin would read as sign to back off.

"Or maybe," Fred began, smirk mirroring George's, "you've been secretly stalking us, Granger."

"Sneaking about our rooms," George added, pointedly pressing closer against Hermione in silent rebuttal.

"Sorting through our unmentionables." Fred noted the subtle flinch of George's shoulders, the only outward indicator of a laugh. He hoped the dip into more risque teasing would head George off. Fred could feel the embarrassed flush radiating off the girl beside him.

No such luck. George's eyes flashed in defiance, his grin notching wickedly. "You didn't happen to come across Fred's collection of muggle pornography, did you, Granger?" he asked, not even pretending to watch for Hermione's reaction as he gloated to Fred in mute triumph.

"Enough!" Hermione screeched, struggling mightily to remove herself from their grasps. Book falling to the floor, she stood and rounded on them. Her cheeks flushed red, hair a disheveled mess. "You two are deplorable," she seethed fixing them each with her impressive glare.

Grinning unapologetically, George batted his lashes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Hermione dear."

"Honestly!" Hermione huffed, completely unaware of the George's true intentions, and crossed her arms over her chest in clear annoyance. "If you don't want your bloody scarves, just give them back!"

"Nonsense!" Fred cried indignantly, clutching his scarf to his chest.

George gaped at her, appalled. "We never said we didn't _want_ them!" He wrapped the deep blue scarf tightly around his neck before muttering to himself about 'touchy birds,' and flouncing away.

Slumping back into her seat, Hermione glared at Fred. "You really are a prat."

Fred offered her a weak smile, groaning inwardly. It would have been better in George's eyes if she'd marched off in a right fit. "Wouldn't want to arouse suspicion," he said sarcastically.

Hermione snorted, patted his knee, and stood. Her arms came over her head, stretching back with a groan, and revealing a sliver of skin along her stomach that Fred studiously avoided glancing at, feeling George's eyes burning into him from across the room.

"Right," Hermione said with a nod. "I'm off to the library."

Fred rolled his eyes as she moved deeper into the house. She had barely left the room before George flung himself down into her vacated seat. He turned to Fred, eyeing him expectantly.

Growling in annoyance, Fred shot him a glare. "Dammit, George, what?"

"Favorite colors, Fred. _Exact_ favorite colors. Care to tell me, brother dearest, how Miss Swot just happened upon this information?"

Fred forced a smirk and waggled his eyebrows at his twin. "Perhaps she truly does want in your knickers, George."

A vicious grin spread slowly across George's face, taking the attempted redirect as on par with a full admission. "And what bird wouldn't, me being the much more handsome twin and all. But cut the shite, Fred. It's more than that. Did you know she called me by my name the last time she lit into me about testing on little firsties? My _whole_ name."

"Oh no, Forge! Not your name!"

George scowled. "Bugger off, prat." He leaning into Fred, squinting up as if studying him for subtle clues. "What I just don't understand, Fred, is she _stayed_. Normally that sort of colorful commentary would have sent her off in a fit a tears, but Miss Swot powered through it all with nothing more than a half-hearted scowl and an affectionate pat to the knee. Seems awfully dodgy, if you ask me."

Agitated, Fred ran a hand through his hair. "Hell if I know, George. Did you ever consider she asked Ginny? They seem to be quite friendly."

"Sure. But that doesn't really explain why you and Miss Swot seem on the verge of picking out floral patterns together. And don't deny it, Fred, I'm not the only one to have noticed. Lee's got the same suspicions I have."

Fred shot up off the couch in frustration and began pacing. "It's not like that, George."

"No," he agreed, leaning back into the sofa, his hands behind his head. George smirked. "But you want it to be."

Freezing in mid-step, Fred stared at him incredulously. "You're barmy."

George snorted. "Hardly. But whatever this is, brother dearest, it needs to stop. You do know Ronnikins seems to have some shoddily hidden feelings for her?"

Fred nodded distractedly. "Course I do. Bloody hell, George, the only one who doesn't seem to know is Ron." He sighed heavily before pinning his twin with a earnest gaze. "Whatever you and Lee have convinced yourselves this is, you're wrong."

George considered him for long moments, deeper understanding burning in his eyes before nodding once. Fred winced but accepted the silent dismissal of the argument. Anxious and frustrated from the confrontation, Fred left the sitting room, shuffling through the house with no conscious destination driving him. He started slightly when he noticed all the bookshelves and the diminutive form of his secret confidant curled up in an expensive looking leather arm chair in the corner by the fire. Hermione's eyes met his with a smile.

"Fred." His name rolled off her tongue like warm honey and he scowled as he stepped into the room.

Hermione's eyes widened in concern and she shut the book in her lap. "What's wrong, Fred?" she asked softly.

Resuming his earlier pacing, Fred dragged large hands through his already mussed hair. He looked at her searchingly. "George."

Hermione stiffened. "What about George? Is he alright?"

"He suspects something," Fred ground out past gritted teeth.

She blanched. "He does? You didn't tell him anything, did you?" Her voice was strangled.

Biting back a curse, Fred began to gesture wildly. "Of course I bloody well didn't, Granger! You know what I did do though?" He whirled on her then, ignoring her flinch as he jabbed an accusing finger. "I lied to him. George! I lied to my twin brother because _you_ asked me to," his rasped.

Eyeing him warily, as if expecting him to attack her physically, Hermione slowly stood from her chair, setting the book down behind her. Slender fingers reached toward him tentatively. "Fred?" she asked timidly.

"Don't," Fred spat, yanking his arm from her grasp. "Just… Not right now." With that, he swept from the room.

* * *

The rest of the day dragged. Fred had studiously avoided any and all contact, refusing to even look at Hermione despite sitting across from her on the way to St. Mungo's to visit his father. Once there, he and George had snuck off as soon as possible, first fetching a cup of tea, then attempting to find the hospital's potions cupboard, only to come back to Grimmauld Place and lock themselves in their room for the remainder of the evening. Now it was late. All decent hours to be awake had passed awhile ago yet still guilt seemed content to gnaw holes in his insides. Fred listened bitterly to gentle snore of his twin, knowing from experience he wouldn't be able to drift off as well until he checked up on Hermione.

Sneaking quietly from the room, Fred padded down the plushly carpeted hall to the room Hermione shared with his little sister, Ginny. Door creaking faintly on it's hinges, Fred popped his head around and cursed at the perfectly made bed dominating the right side of the room. After a brief glance in the kitchens and sitting room, Fred found himself at the library, mildly annoyed, and watching a forlorn Hermione staring down blankly at the cover of a book.

"You of all people should know they work better if you open them," he said.

Red-rimmed eyes snapped up to him, startled. Swallowing hard, she nodded.

Fred pushed himself off the door and came to kneel in front of her. He sucked in a deep, steadying breath.

"I'm sorry…" they both paused, each having spoken. Relieved, Fred gestured to Hermione to continue.

She smiled sadly. "I'm sorry I made you lie to George," her voice rasped, whether from disuse or tears, Fred wasn't sure.

Chin falling to his chest, Fred took a moment to absorb her words. "And I'm sorry I yelled at you but, Hermione," he pleaded, exasperation coloring his tone. His rough calloused hand clasped firmly over hers and he held her gaze intently. "Why can't we tell him? It's nothing sordid! We're just friends. For two years, Hermione!"

"Fred -"

Leaping to his feet, Fred paced. "No! He's trustworthy. I swear he is. He wouldn't tell anyone else, Hermione, not if we asked him not to." He whirled on her, grasping her hands again. "It's _George_," Fred said imploringly.

Tears choked her voice as she said so low he almost didn't hear, "It would change things, Fred."

"It wouldn't," he vehemently denied.

Hermione's eyes flashed in anger and she pulled her hands from between his. "It would!" she said. "It already has! Tell me, Fred, what exactly did George say to you?"

He studied her, his expression guarded. "Only that he's noticed we've been spending more time together."

"And how did you respond?"

Fred shook his head. "I don't -"

"You avoided me, Fred!" she cried, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. "George obviously didn't approve of whatever it is he thinks he saw so you've been avoiding me."

Offended, he brushed her finger away. "Because he doesn't understand -"

"Sure," she interrupted. "Because everyone we're friends with is just so _understanding_, are they, Fred? What do you think will happen if we tell everyone now that we've secretly been friends for the last two years? They're all going to have opinions, Fred. Loud, vocal opinions regardless of if it's their business or not, and it's going to change how we interact together! I wouldn't be able to be myself with you, something I dearly love, because I'd be too worried someone was watching us, reading into it things."

Fred stared at her as if she were barmy. "It's just George!" he bellowed.

Hermione gave a low scream of frustration, her tiny hands yanking at her bushy strands. "Yes, Fred. Just George, who _you_ would have to tell the _entire_ truth to! Everything Fred! How you found me, what I might have done if you hadn't shown up, how sorry and pathetic the poor little muggle-born girl really is -"

Outraged, Fred lept to his feet. "Don't you dare, Granger! George would never treat you like that!"

Hermione stood to face him, her body tense, fists balled at her sides. "Oh no? I've heard what he says. He already thinks I'm an annoying little swot! I don't need another reason for him to dislike me any more than he already does."

Fred could hear the angry thrum of his heartbeat in his ears. He gaped at her, mouth working silently before he finally found his voice. "But you _are_ an annoying swot!" he shouted, resisting the urge to reach out and throttle her. "Maybe if you laid off about us testing our products he wouldn't have _quite_ so much of a reason to think so. I don't understand how me telling him will change any of that!"

Eyes suddenly shining, Hermione reeled as if slapped. Her voice wavered when she spoke. "You… _you_ still think I'm annoying?"

Fred rounded on her. "Oh no! You don't have any right to make me feel guilty, Granger. You know damn well you're an annoying swot, you don't need George or me to tell you. And that's beside the point! This is your fault. It is your fault I had to _lie_ to George!"

Her eyes hardened despite the bitter tears still straining for release. "I never asked you to be my friend, Fred," she whispered harshly.

Fred snorted and rolled his eyes. "Fat lot of choice I had there, Granger."

The strangled whimper that escaped her throat caused his stomach to drop painfully. "I… I knew… Fred Weasley, I knew that's why we became friends, but I didn't… didn't realize that was the _o-only_ reason," Hermione's voice cracked painfully and she fought to regain control.

Fred's face crumbled and he reached for her. "Hermione -"

"No," she spat, taking a step back. Pulling herself up and squaring her shoulders proudly, she glared at him, furious mask in place. "I am so _terribly_ sorry for having wasted so much of your time," she mocked, her lip quivering. She took a deep breath before cold eyes locked onto his. Then Hermione sneered.

"Happy Christmas."

She turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

With a groan, Fred collapsed heavily into her armchair, dropped his head into his hands, and stared unseeing at the smoldering fire.

A cleared throat drew him out of his quiet seething and he sprang to his feet, wand drawn.

"Spectacular show there, mate," Sirius Black stated, leaning airily against the door frame and picking at some invisible lint. "Well done, putting the bird in her place." Smokey gray eyes flashed up at him mockingly.

Sighing in disgust, Fred pocketed his wand. "Bugger off, Sirius," he groaned, sitting back down and resuming staring into the fire. Movement from the door drew his eyes back to Sirius. Fred snarled. "Aren't you gone yet?"

"Hardly." Draping himself in a decidedly elegant fashion across the matching armchair across from Fred, Sirius made a show of studying his perpetually dirty finger nails.

"Shame really," he began, glancing toward Fred through a fringe of hair. "Letting some bird come between you and your matching half. And a swot, no less?"

"She's not a bloody swot," Fred grunted, refusing to look away from the embers.

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "That's not the way I heard it. In fact," he said, slapping his knee for emphasis, "It seems there's universal agreement on her swot-like status."

Fred cringed before shooting Sirius a murderous glare. "Finished?"

Sirius gave a winning grin. "Now that depends. Shall I expound on what a fantastic prat you are for sending the girl off in tears? Or how, if you're really going to let someone come between you and your brother, I'd at least hope you were getting a little something on the side? Unless I'm quite mistaken and you _are_ shagging her, in which case 'prat' just doesn't quite cover -"

With an inarticulate yell, Fred picked up a nearby tea cup and hurled it into the fire. The fine china shattered in a spray of dust. Eyes hot with unshed tears, Fred stood and resumed his earlier pacing, resolutely avoiding looking at the older man.

"I never really liked that tea set anyway," Sirius announced airily after long moments.

Fred snorted and rolled his eyes. "Anyone ever tell you you're a right bastard, Black?"

Sirius smirked. "James may have mentioned it once or twice back in the day." He paused in contemplation. "You know, you're not going to win this one, mate," he said softly.

Slumping back down into the chair, Fred scrubbed at his face with his hands. "I know," he said in exasperation.

Sirius nodded as if that was what he expected. "Any idea how you're going to right this mess? She doesn't seem like the type of bird to be bought off with a dozen flowers and a few sweet words."

Fred shook his head. "Not a bloody one. Merlin's balls," he groaned. "I really am a right prat."

Sirius stood, laughing, and headed toward the small, unobtrusive bar in the corner. He poured himself a firewhiskey. "You certainly are at that. Care for a drink?"

"If you think it'll help."

Handing Fred his own glass, Sirius tossed his back and sighed. "Course, mate. Firewhiskey always helps."

Fred took a large swallow, wincing with a groan as it went down. His head started to swim almost immediately and deep burn in his gut soothed his frayed nerves.

"So," asked Sirius, pouring himself another shot. "How are you going to win back the girl?"

Fred snorted into his glass. "Same way I'm going to win back George. I'll apologize, maybe prostrate myself at her feet, and eventually she'll forgive me."

"And if she doesn't?"

Fred scoffed, his head buzzing slightly. "Please. She's forgiven my little prat of a brother for worse than this."

Sirius contemplated him over the rim of his glass. "I wouldn't be so hasty, mate. It sounded to me like you threw the basis for your entire friendship into question."

At this Fred started, blinking in surprise. His eyes widened in horror before he dropped his head in shame. "Buggering hell, I didn't, didn't I?"

Swallowing the last of his firewhiskey, Sirius clapped him once on the shoulder. "It's not insurmountable, mate. Though I might recommend one hell of an 'I'm sorry' gift."

Fred nodded absentmindedly. Sirius' words and his earlier encounter with Hermione swirled through his head in a torrent. Guilt and anger and embarrassment warred for dominance in his gut. He didn't have the slightest clue what sort of gift would make up for him all but telling her he never wanted to be her friend, when what he actually wanted, when he let himself think about it, was quite the opposite. She'd grown on him over the last two years and while, initially, he might not have been overly thrilled, she'd somehow ingrained herself in his life. He'd found himself on more than one occasion with his mind wondering to what she might be doing, what she must be thinking. If only he could think of a way for them to share their thoughts -.

Fred shot out of his chair. "Bloody brilliant," he muttered, mentally tallying a list of ingredients. "Need to research that charm, and some added enhancements wouldn't hurt. There must be some way to make it two directional…" He slipped out the door to the library lost deep in thought before he remembered he'd left Sirius behind without so much as a backward glance.

He jogged lightly back to the library and popped his head around the door. "Thanks for the chat, Sirius," he said, smiling viciously at the old mutt. "You really aren't nearly as bad a bloke as mum says." And with that he resumed his quick yet stealthy pace to the room he and George shared.

* * *

**Author's Note: Ah, sweet angst. Just a warning I'm likely going to have to up the rating on this little project to M for the chapter after next. A Fred and Hermione coupling seems unavoidable to me at this point, though I am still aiming to make this as canon compliant as possible. Sans the kiss with Ron. You know, because of the coupling with Fred. Even though he dies.**


	5. 5 - Apologies

**Chapter Title: **5 - Apologies

**Characters:** Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, Sirius Black

**Description: **Set during OotP. After unintentionally implying that his friendship with Hermione was only due to obligation, Fred Weasley begins his quest to earn her forgiveness.

**Word Count:** 2,503

**Date Published:** 2/6/2014

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Winter break was ending at 12 Grimmauld Place. Ever since the disastrous Christmas Day row with Fred, Hermione Granger had done her utmost best to avoid the twins.

Either. Both. It didn't matter anymore.

In the days following their late night argument in the library, Hermione had proven herself to be exceptionally gifted at avoiding Fred, and not at all reluctant to hex him on the few occasions he did manage to corner her. She'd even gone so far as to set wards around her bed at night after Fred had made an attempt to use her sleep-addled brain to force her to speak with him. He'd left quite quickly, attempting to stymie the sardines dripping from his nose, a hex Hermione had picked up her first year from Hagrid after Ron's slug vomiting incident.

Despite all her best efforts, on the last day of the winter holidays Hermione found herself seated next to Fred at the dinner table, Harry between Fred and George, and Sirius across from her, shooting her poorly hidden looks of bemusement over the lip of his tumbler. Hermione glared down at her mashed parsnips to avoid any and all eye contact. Her lips were set in a thin line and she kept slowly easing away from Fred, even as he seemed to be pressing further and further into her space.

Undaunted, Fred whispered to her throughout the meal as they passed around dishes. His head was tilted down and toward her, hiding his moving lips.

"Hermione."

She stiffened and turned her head away from him. Hermione could feel his eye roll and scowled harder.

"I know you can hear me, Hermione."

She sniffed, piercing her meat furiously with her fork.

"I'm truly sorry, you know. About all of it."

Bringing the bite to her lips, she accidently caught Sirius' eye. He smirked and winked at her causing her to blush furiously.

Seemingly unaware of his audience, Fred continued. "I didn't mean any of it, Hermione. Honest." She started when she felt something drop into her lap under the table. "Would you read it?"

Glancing down, Hermione found a folded bit of parchment covered in Fred's messy scroll. She snorted and rolled her eyes before scanning the table for a friendly face. Leaning forward and away from Fred, she caught Molly Weasley's eye.

"Dinner's been wonderful, Mrs Weasely. How do you make the beans taste so buttery?"

Smiling broadly at the praise, Mrs Weasely launched into a detailed and long-winded explanation about cooking spells. Sighing heavily, Fred leaned frustratedly back in his seat. Running a large hand through his bright hair, he caught sight of Sirius whose shoulders were bouncing in silent amusement, gray eyes glittering. Fred scowled at the older wizard. Turning away his attention to the plate before him, Fred casually dropped his hand down into his lap. He eased his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wand, accidentally josling Hermione. She turned to him, alarmed, eyes dropping down to see what had bumped her side. Head snapping up to Fred's innocent mask, she was just about to demand to know what he was doing when Sirius lept from the bench with a howl, rubbing at his inner thigh where the stinging hex had hit.

The table erupted into confused chatter and questions. Focused on Sirius' accusing glare and brush-off of Molly's inquiries, Fred nearly missed the small snort of amusement to his right. Fred dropped his head smiling smugly to himself.

* * *

Dinner ended not long after. Hermione leapt from her spot to rush her dishes to the sink and out the kitchen door. Eager to see if she would read his note, Fred followed her out and to the drawing room. He stopped just outside the door and watched her intently.

Hermione stood, shoulders hunched, facing the sputtering fire of the drawing room. With almost tender reverence, she fingered the note in her hand tracing along the script that seemed to cover the entire parchment. She sighed heavily before stealing her shoulders and throwing the note into the fire. Turning, Hermione started violently when she noticed Fred in the door. Their eyes locked a long moment, sad hazel eyes to anxious, almost guilty brown before Hermione's gaze became a scowl. She turned up her pert nose, crossed her arms defiantly, and stomped from the room, thumping Fred's shoulder as she went.

Rubbing the back of his neck in frustration, Fred groaned. "Well, shite."

He winced as a hard hand clapped him on the back. Sirius grinned at him, baring his teeth. "Not giving up yet, are you, mate?" he asked, sarcasm dripping through his tone. He eyed Fred calculatingly.

Fred glared back. "Not hardly."

Sirius' grin widened, his grip tightening painfully on Fred's shoulder. "Good. She's a good girl. Deserves… well, a better friend than you," he drawled.

Snorting, Fred shrugged his hand off. He turned toward the older wizard, his expression one of innocent curiosity. "How's the thigh, Sirius?"

The grin on Sirius' lined face dropped into a sneer and he jabbed an accusing finger in Fred's chest. "Hex me again, pup, and I'll have your bollocks."

A large, wicked grin spread across the red-heads face and he winked at the older wizard. "Why Sirius. Didn't know I was your type."

Sirius grinned to match his own. "Don't you wish. You're not nearly pretty enough for me, Red."

Mock hurt flashed across Fred's face. He pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes shining. "Oh, that's right," he whispered, forcing his voice to crack. "You like werewolves."

Dark gray eyes widened. Sirius took a step forward to swat at the younger wizard but Fred, anticipating the small delay, had already ducked around the dark-haired man and was running away down the hall. He raced up the stairs to the room he shared with George, slamming the door behind him, booming laughter drowned out by the screeches of the portrait of Walburga Black.

* * *

Hermione stalked through the halls of Hogwarts a week after the end of break. She was annoyed. It seemed everywhere she turned, there was Fred; racing down the halls with George or Lee hot on his heels, boisterous and hollering in the common room over a game of exploding snaps, or, worst of all, sneaking furtive glances down the table at her during meals.

And as if that wasn't enough, ever since they returned to Hogwarts, she'd been finding random bits of parchment in between the pages of her textbooks, in the pockets of her robes and bag, once even in the filling of her treacle tart. Each and every scrap had the same handwritten note. 'I'm sorry.'

So she was annoyed, with Fred, true, but mostly with herself. Because try as she might to convince herself otherwise, the truth of the matter was she _wanted_ to believe him. She would even go so far as to say she missed him. Missed talking to him late at night in the common room after everyone else had retired. Missed how he always seemed able to make her laugh. Missed how he had always seemed genuinely interested in getting to know the girl behind the book.

But no, she told herself furiously. That was what caused this, wasn't it? Despite everything, despite all of it, he thought she was annoying, a swot. Anger and hurt stabbed through her chest, radiating through the palms of her hands, and burning her eyes every time she thought about him saying she was just an obligation. Suggesting he wouldn't have been her friend otherwise. And for the life of her, Hermione could not figure out why Fred's betrayal hurt so much worse than any of Ron's.

It was with these thoughts swirling in her head that she trudge down the corridor on her way to the library, eyes focused on the floor, book hugged tightly to her chest.

Suddenly, a hand flashed out, gripping her arm and yanking her behind a tapestry into a hidden alcove. She squealed in fright but recovered quickly, dropping her book to the ground as she snatched her wand into her hand. Hermione blinked as she realized the tip of her wand was pressed tightly to a familiar neck. Glancing up and catching a shock of red hair, she snarled and pressed her wand harder to the bobbing adams-apple.

Fred held up his hands placatingly, wide eyes swimming with trepidation. "Whoa, nice reflexes there, Hermione. But as tempting as I'm sure it is, I really rather you didn't hex me. Again," he muttered, reaching up to push away her wand, but stopped when Hermione growled.

Hermione sneered at him, a face he was seeing more and more from his ex-best friend. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't, Weasely," she sneered, brown eyes flashing anger like a life preserver. She couldn't stand the thought that he would see how much he'd hurt her.

"Aw, come on, Hermione. It's me."

A bitter smile lit her lips. "And which one were you again?"

Fred flushed violently, swallowing hard and dropping his gaze. "I said I was sorry," he said softly to the floor between their feet.

"And I told you I don't need your charity."

His gaze snapped back up to hers, his expression fierce. "I know I mess up. I know I said some bloody stupid things, but don't you ever for a second think my friendship with you was anything less than genuine."

Blinking away tears, Hermione turned quickly away from him, pocketing her wand. She kept her head down using her mane of hair to hide the emotion on her face.

Undeterred, Fred continued. "I care for you, Hermione," he whispered, his hand brushing up her arm. "Just as much as I care for George. I'm so sorry I said what I did, but you have to know I didn't mean any of it. Not even a little bit."

He looked down, disheartened. "I was angry. And that's no excuse for how I acted or what I said, but I promise it won't ever happen again. I'm sorry I hurt you, but please. Let me try to make it up to you." He watched her for long moments before she lifted her eyes to frown at him.

He sighed. "Here." Fred shoved a wrapped parcel into her hands before shoving his deep into his pockets and rocking back anxiously on his heels.

Hermione held the parcel gingerly, eyeing him and it warily. "What is it?"

Fred snorted and his shoulders hunched up nervously even as his ears reddened. "It's something I've been working on. To show you I'm sorry."

Her eyes held his a moment more before she finally dropped her gaze to the parcel in her hand. Hermione opened it slowly revealing a slim, leather bound journal no bigger than her hand. She looked up at him questioningly. "A book?" She cracked it open and flipped through a few pages. "An empty book."

Fred smirked. "It's a journal." He held up a matching book. "This is it's mate."

She stared back and forth between the books then back up to him.

"It's a way to communicate, sort of like your fake galleons."

Nodding absentmindedly, she turned the book over in her hands. "So you used a Protean Charm?"

"That and several others. I charmed it so we'll never run out of pages, and should it ever fall into someone else's hands, the writing will rearrange itself into indecipherable text."

At that, her head snapped up to him, her brown eyes narrowed. "You _invented_ this? How does it work?"

Visibly relieved at her reaction, Fred waved his book at her excitedly. "Can't really claim to have invented it. You can buy them at Flourish & Blotts, but George and I figure why do that when we can make it better ourselves."

Her nose wrinkled. "Right."

Taking a step closer so her could point over her shoulder, Fred drew his wand and demonstrated. "After writing something, tap the page with your wand three times, and the words show up in it's mate. My book will vibrate slightly to let me know you've written until open it. Here, let me show you."

Pulling out a self-inking quill, Fred jotted a hasty note into his journal, tapped the page three times, and the small book in Hermione's hands began to vibrate insistently. She opened it to reveal the words 'I miss you, Hermione.'

Blushing furiously, Hermione stared hard at the floor. "Why a book?"

Nervous again, Fred replied in a small voice. "I'm relying on your deeply ingrained love of books to prevent you from destroying it."

Hurt flashed across her face. Hermione looked down sadly at the journal in her hands. "So you thought you'd use my bookish nature against me?"

"No! No, of course not. That isn't… I just… bugger." Fred ran a hand through his hair, pulling slightly in frustration. Head hanging in defeat, he sighed. "I just thought you'd like it."

Hermione studied him a moment before putting her hand on his arm. Starting, Fred's head snapped to her hand then up to her face in obvious question.

She frowned at him but continued to grip him. "It… it is rather brilliant, Fred."

Fred's face burned at the unexpected praise. "Well, Charms is my best subject."

"Is it?" she asked, curiosity clear in her voice.

"It's where I get my highest scores anyway," he said with a shrug, the knot of apprehension he'd held in his gut since Christmas night loosening the slightest bit. "I actually like Transfiguration better."

"I would think it's be Potions what with all your prank candies."

Fred winced. "Yeah, I'm a decent hand a potions, but George is far better. Lucky git."

Hermione smiled softly at him before realizing what she's doing. She shook her head to clear it and looked away, uncomfortable again in the small alcove with him.

"Thank you, Fred, for the gift," she said, reaching for the tapestry.

"Will you use it?" his voice surprisingly desperate.

Hermione turned and stared at him over her shoulder for a long time, sad brown eyes traveling over his face, her chest tight in her desire to believe the sincerity she saw there.

"I don't know, Fred."

He nodded staring down at his feet.

"I have to get to class..." she began awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving her off with a force nonchalance. "You go on ahead."

Nodding once, Hermione slipped silently out of the alcove, journal now hugged tightly to her chest.

Fred stayed behind in the alcove, replaying the interaction and again kicking himself for his harsh and stupid words from weeks ago. He was just about to leave when he looked down and spotted Hermione's library book that she'd dropped when he had first pulled her in. Mood lightening slightly, Fred bent to pick up the book, pocketing it. He smiled to himself, plotting for the at least one more guaranteed interaction he would soon has with his wayward best friend.

* * *

**Author's Note: Bloody hell, this chapter did not want to be written. I completely agree with Dixie Chic from the reviews that Hermione shouldn't forgive him immediately because, come on! No matter that she's being stubborn, he was a HUGE jerk last chapter. He deserved that sardine hex. And I rewrote that scene between Fred and Sirius five times with quite a few more innuendos, but I didn't want them to be at each other's throats, too, and it was just a mess. No matter. I've now washed my hands of it. Next chapter should be much more my style.**


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